A Tight Spot
by erdbeerpfannkuchen
Summary: Some people take Twister very seriously. Modern Party AU. Beware of vacuum cleaners. Enjolras/Eponine quasi-flirting. Oneshot,


Authors Note:

Okay, so I wasn't really planning on publishing this here, mostly because I wrote it late at night for a prompt and thought it was awful. But, thanks to kind feedback I have received, I've reconsidered. So, here you go.

Also- what does everyone think of ao3?

* * *

"You're cheating"

"I don't think you can really cheat at _Twister_."

Enjolras was precariously balanced atop his acquaintance, one hand behind his back at the topmost green circle, opposite leg on the farthest dot to the diagonal, the red. He felt as if he was drawn and quartered, and the final round had just begun.

"Just having your fingers on doesn't count," Eponine protested, her head poking up from underneath her opponent's armpit where her hand was set on a blue circle.

Despite the danger to his balance, Enjolras sighed. "Consult the rulebook."

This was the fourth time.

Combeferre, enjoying himself thoroughly at Enjolras's subjugation to party games, did so. After a brief inspection, the ruling was announced: "It's not forbidden."

"Then it's settled."

"Fine."

Courfeyrac spun. "Right hand yellow, Enjolras."

He moved his hand from the green to the yellow, trapping the girl underneath his body. She made a face that he couldn't quite read, but he was sure it was something between between horror, anger and dread.

Somehow, his idiot friends had conned him into a party at Cosette's house (_"it's the biggest place, with so much room for activities" they said, "it'll be fun" they said, "there will be games of strategy," they said_) and here he was, a regular _Twister_ prodigy. Most of the contestants who had failed-likely on purpose to do other party-related activities, he gathered from Marius's laughter and Grantaire's horrible singing- were drunk at this point, or well on their way. The exception, of course, was Cosette, who was, while having fun, also trying to ensure her home remained intact. Joly had begun vacuuming, as he often did while intoxicated, on her hardwood floors, which could damage them severely, and to be honest it, really would be an awkward explanation to M. Fauchelvent after Spring Break.

The only sober attendees were now deadlocked in a battle of wits and flexibility on a plastic mat.

"Left hand red!"

Eponine balked. How the hell was she supposed to keep her leg on green, right hand on blue AND get her left hand over there? She cursed under her breath as she tried to duck under (unsuccessfully) and arch over (also unsuccessfully).

"Is that a forfeit?" Enjolras asked, innocently.

Glaring up from near his palm, she countered that she had yet to make her move and it would be in the man's best interest to shut his mouth. He did.

"Ep, ya gotta put it down in ten seconds!" yelled Grantaire, from the other side of the room, ceasing his singing and slurring something to Marius about operas.

"Where is that in the rules?"

Combeferre consulted the rules. There was no such rule.

The vacuum was disorienting, and the smell of liquor that she could not reach was more so. The game board, Eponine concluded, was too small. Yes, she would have to write to Hasbro. No human could stretch in this way and it was irresponsible to suggest otherwise. The red dot eluded her, fingers just out of reach. Her back had moved against the chest of her competitors, and it weighed her down. Damn, if he could just move up an inch-

And he did. Her head fit just between his neck and his shoulder, could reach it- yes- she had to contort her body so that it was pressed up against his chest, but her fingers just dusted the corner of the circle. "HA!"

She felt the laugh more than she heard it as his shoulders shrugged and he exhaled into her hair. "I thought fingers didn't count?"

Eponine glanced up, and good god, he had a smile on his face. "Combeferre read the rules," she muttered into the fabric of his shirt, "I was wrong."

"Is sabotage against the rules?"

"Wha-"

Before any plan could be enacted, however, the game board was partially sucked up by the vacuum, sending the players toppling and the room into an eruption of laughter.

"You're paying for that!" Courfeyrac shrieked, trying to pull out the mat from the now-jammed vacuum.

Joly began to blubber as Cosette tried to turn off the vacuum, shouting something about her father.

Eponine snickered on the floor, rolling to her side to address Enjolras, who was nursing his elbow from the fall. "So you were planning on cheating?"

"All's fair in love and war," came the retort, only half-jokingly.

"_Twister_ is war for you?"

"Any competition is war."

"And who was the winner?"

Enjolras pondered the question for a moment. "I suppose it was a tie."

"Truce? Until next time?" Eponine extended her hand as a peaceful offering.

His eyes flashed, determined and unwavering. "There is no truce. We are still at war. The battle was a stalemate, but we rage on."

She paused, somewhat taken aback, before stretching her hand out farther. "Dude, it's just _Twister_."

Enjolras looked from the hand to her to her hand again, before finally accepting it. "Truce. But only for now."


End file.
